


The Bet

by davinkyyy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, DNF, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maid dress, Making bets, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Lust, Pining, Slow Burn, Unrequited Lust, dreamnotfound, internal doubt, just a little bit but more in the future, only some angst i promise its a happy story, theyre both so dense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davinkyyy/pseuds/davinkyyy
Summary: “If the travel ban is lifted in the next month, you have to buy a maid dress and wear it on stream when we meet up,” Dream chuckles, his tone light hearted.“Wh-” George tries to respond, but Dream interrupts before he can say anything.“But, if the travel ban is lifted any time after one month, you win and I’ll wear a maid dress when we meet,” Dream’s voice is as confident and cocky as ever. How can he be so sure of himself? There’s literally no way for him to know for sure, and yet he’s betting like he does. It's fine though, it's not like this is an actual bet.Right..?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 111
Kudos: 442





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dream and George have both stated that they're okay with fanfiction being made about them. However if this ever changes, I'll gladly take this down immediately. 
> 
> I'll post chapters whenever I can! I hope you enjoy!! :)

“Okay, let’s bet on it then,” Dream says, smug expression evident in his tone.

“Bet on it? Seriously? You have to be joking,” comes George’s voice. “What would the winner even get?”

“If the travel ban is lifted in the next month, you have to buy a maid dress and wear it on stream when we meet up,” Dream chuckles, his tone light hearted.

“Wh-” George tries to respond, but Dream interrupts before he can say anything.

“ _But_ , if the travel ban is lifted any time after one month, you win and _I’ll_ wear a maid dress when we meet,” Dream’s voice is as confident and cocky as ever. How can he be so sure of himself? There’s literally no way for him to know for sure, and yet he’s betting like he does. It’s fine though, it’s not like this is an actual bet.

They had just been messing around on the SMP, not streaming or anything, just hanging out and making conversation. How is this what they're at now? How is this even a conversation that they're having?

“No. No way, I’m not agreeing to that,” George laughs out. Sure, they were joking, but George would never openly agree to something like that, whether as a joke not.

“Aww, afraid you’re gonna lose, Georgie?” Dream mocks in a bad British accent, hitting George’s character in game.

“No, I know I’m gonna win, I just don’t think it’s fair that I would have to wear it on stream and you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, wah wah cry about it.”

“Says the piss baby.”

Dream lets out a wheeze, and a smile creeps its way onto George’s face. He's always liked hearing Dream’s laugh.

“We both know I’m better than you anyway, so I shouldn’t have to wear it on stream either way,” Dream explains sarcastically.

“Oh yeah you’re soooo much better than me,” George responds, equally as sarcastic.

“Glad we agree! Now we just have to wait a month and see! And once the travel ban is lifted, you’ll fly out here, regardless of who wins, and buy the loser a maid dress. Good plan.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yep! I gotta go, George. I’ll talk to you later, bye,” and with that, Dream disconnects.

He was actually been serious about the bet? George thought he was joking about the whole thing. They’re actually doing it? 

Oh god, what’d he get himself into now?

\-------------------------------

The next two weeks went by with no mentions of their bet. George wasn’t even sure if Sapnap knew. They had just finished streaming, so he figured it was time to bring it up, and maybe brag a bit too. 

“There’s only two more weeks left for you to win the bet, Dream. It’s not looking too good for you right now,” George teases, dragging out the last words of each sentence just to annoy the other as much as possible.

Sapnap was in the call as well and hadn’t heard anything of the bet yet, so naturally, he was curious. “Bet? What bet?”

George jumps in to answer before Dream gets the chance. “Oh, you know, just that Dream is gonna have to wear a maid dress if the travel ban isn’t lifted in the next two weeks.” George purposefully makes his tone much more smug than necessary.

“WHAT?! DREAM IS GONNA WHAT?” 

“Yep. Time's ticking, and it’s not looking too good for Dreamie boy over there.”

“Oh, come on now,” Dream laughs out. “There’s still a chance I’ll win. I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you, George.”

“Whatever you say, Dream,” George countered, feeling quite cocky despite Dream’s words.

“HOW ARE YOU GUYS SO CASUAL ABOUT THIS?” Sapnap’s voice rings loudly through George’s headset, making him wince slightly.

“I don’t know, maybe we’re just in denial,” Dream replies simply, laughing at Sapnap’s overreaction. 

And that was the end of that. Just two more weeks to go.

\-------------------------------

A week and a half goes by with no news on the travel ban. That is, until four days until the end of their bet. Four days left until George wins, and he’s feeling great.

“I’m _totally_ gonna win! You have, like, no time left!”

“Yeah, yeah. Just start the stream already.” Dream sounds slightly disappointed, after all, who wouldn’t wanna see George in a maid dress? But he hasn’t lost all hope yet. Still four more days to go.

Two hours into the stream, George is reading out donations when one in particular catches his eye. He reads it out loud, “George! The UK travel ban just got lifted 20 minutes ago! Are you gonna go see Dream now that you’re able to?” 

“No way,” George hears Dream say, sounding considerably more excited than before. “No fucking way. Really?”

“I don’t know, why don’t _you_ check, idiot?”

“Why don’t you check, dumbass?”

“Because I’m streaming, you dummy. Just check!”

“Fine, fine, I’m checking now.” And after a beat of silence, “YESSSSSS IT’S TRUE!”

“Oh my fucking god, seriously?”

At this point, Dream is laughing too much to respond, and George is sitting in utter disbelief. He had been so close. _So_ close to victory. Despite his disappointment at the loss, he finds himself laughing along with Dream. That stupid, contagious laugh. The chat is flying by at a pace way too fast to read, with messages consisting of “YESSSS” and “OH MY GOD” and “KISS KISS KISS” and things of that sort.

“Well, I suppose that’s a good note to end on. Thank you to everyone who donated and subbed, and thank you all for coming! Bye!” George drags out the last word while waving both hands at the camera, and ending the stream a few seconds later. George sighs. “I can’t believe I actually lost. I was so close!”

“Not close enough, Georgie,” Dream laughs maniacally. 

George gives Dream a moment to calm down before speaking again. “I suppose I should buy the tickets, then.”

“What makes you think you’re buying them,” Dream questions, clearly having the idea that he’d be paying.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that _I’m_ flying to _you_? Or maybe the fact that I'm gonna but the tickets right now?” 

“Not if I can beat you to it!”

“Wait that’s not fair, you’re probably already halfway through paying!”

“Oh I’m already done, I started looking for tickets as soon as I found out.”

“What the hell? I could’ve bought them myself, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’s the least I can do for making you wear a maid dress on stream.”

“I suppose that’s true… When do I fly out, then?”

“Next Tuesday.”

“WHAT?! THAT’S LIKE NO TIME AT ALL, DREAM, WHAT THE HELL,” George exclaims with a mix of excitement, confusion, and anxiousness.

“Too late now! I’ll see you in six days, George!”

“Yeah, see you then.”

And just like that, it’s a done deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! This is my first time writing a fanfic, so I hope this first chapter was tolerable enough. I'll get better as time goes on!
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Remember to take care of yourself and drink water! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George POV

The next week goes by in a flash, but at the same time feeling like the longest week of his life. The fans still don’t know, and George can only imagine how they’re gonna react. The internet just might explode.

He’s woken up by his blaring alarm at 5:30AM, and quickly turn it off to stop the pounding it caused in his head. After a minute, he begins getting ready to head to the airport. 

Reluctantly, George flings off his blanket and stands up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as best as he can and grabbing his phone from his nightstand. He makes his way over to his bathroom and flips the light on, walking in and closing the door. The shower handle turns with a squeak and the shower head above sputters to life, raining down lukewarm water. George shimmies out of his pajamas and steps into the shower, savoring the comfort of the warm water soaking into his hair and dripping down his body. 

Once he feels clean and more awake, he turns off the water and grabs his towel from its place on the wall. He squeezes the water out of his hair using the towel, and pats his body dry before wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out to check his phone’s notifications. There’s the usual notifications, as well as a couple texts from Dream.

> Dweam - 5:36AM  
>  Good morning!

> Dweam - 5:37AM  
>  Today’s the day!!! What time is your flight?

> Dweam - 5:41AM  
>  Fine, ignore me then bitch. I’ve always hated you anyways

George snickers at Dream’s ridiculousness and types up a quick response.

> Gogy - 5:44AM  
>  I was in the shower you idiot. My flight leaves at 7

He sets down his phone on the bathroom counter before brushing his teeth and giving his hair a quick comb through.

George then grabs his phone and flicks off the light, wandering back to his room to find his outfit for the day. Eventually, he settles on his white Adidas shirt and dark grey sweatpants, opting more for comfort than style. 

Finally feeling clean and ready, he begins to gather the rest of his belongings that he couldn’t pack the day before. George unplugs his charger, snatching up his earbuds as well, and puts it in his carry-on backpack, along with a small bottle of water, a bag of goldfish, a portable charger, and his Enchroma glasses. 

He gives one last glance around to make sure he doesn’t leave anything behind, and spots his favorite, and only, stuffed animal. It’s a small whale, only slightly bigger than a soda can. It’s a vibrant blue with a light grey belly and beady black eyes, and it’s also the softest thing George has ever felt. 

He reaches across his bed and picks up the stuffed animal, running his hand along the back and then twirling the fin around his finger, a calming habit of his. He’s had Bloo since he was about two years old, and it’s since become a big comfort item. So naturally, he has to bring it with. He gingerly places Bloo in his bag alongside everything else and zips it up. 

And finally, he’s ready to go. 

George puts his phone in his pocket, grabs his backpack and suitcase, and brings it all downstairs. 

The oven timer reads 6:01AM. Perfect, he’s right on schedule.

Ideally, George would’ve hugged his mom goodbye before leaving, but evidently she couldn’t be bothered to wake up and do so. But over the years, George has learned to expect that from his mother, so it’s really no surprise, though it does still hurt his heart a little bit.

Pushing those thoughts aside, George says a quick goodbye to Cat and Dog and steps out into the crisp morning air.

Once in his car, George pulls out his phone and texts Dream.

> Gogy - 6:04AM  
>  Leaving for the airport now :]

> Dweam - 6:04AM  
>  See you sooooon!

With a smile, George places his phone in his cup holder and pulls out of the driveway.

Though the drive to the airport is quiet, George’s thoughts are anything but. 

_I’m actually about to meet him. I’m finally about to meet one of my best friends after so many years. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he gets annoyed by me and sends me home? Or worse what if he doesn't send me home and it's just really awkward and tense? What if he hates me? No no no, that’s silly. Of course it’s gonna go well. We’ve known each other for years and talked almost every day since we first became friends. Nothing's gonna change. It’s gonna be the same, just in person. It’s gonna be fine… Right?_

Finally, after the 10 minute drive that seemed to last much longer than usual, he pulled into the airport parking lot. After finding a parking spot and walking through the doors, he scans the big building for where he had to go. 

First through security, then to the correct gate. So where exactly is security? 

After looking around for a few more seconds, he found where he had to go. The line seemed to move much faster than usual, and he was through in no time. Now to gate 12.

After dodging multiple small children who darted right past his legs, a sign caught his attention. It read “Corner Bakery Cafe” and had a delicious, sweet scent wafting from it’s stand. George wandered over and was pleasantly surprised to see so many options. 

Conflicted on what kind of muffin to get, George pulls out his phone to get Bad’s opinion. He _is_ the muffin master, after all.

> Gogy - 6:48AM  
>  Bad I need your help
> 
> Should I get a chocolate muffin or a blueberry muffin?

> BBH - 6:48AM  
>  Blueberry, duh. The correct answer is always blueberry

> Gogy - 6:49AM  
>  Of course, how silly of me. Ty :]

And with that, he stepped up and ordered his blueberry muffin. Hopefully that’d be enough to hold him over for the next couple hours.

George walked the rest of the way to his gate and found a seat. The muffin tasted wonderful. Bad was right, blueberry is always the best choice.

_Only 5 more minutes until we board._

“Excuse me? Are you George?”

George turned around in his seat to see a young girl, maybe 15 or 16 years old, looking quite shell shocked, to say the least, but smiling nonetheless.

“What? Oh! Yes that’s me, hello,” George responded with a smile. He usually never went out much, so it wasn’t often he got recognized. He wasn’t quite sure what to say or do, but luckily the girl started talking again.

“I’m Erin. I love your videos so much, they always make me laugh. I can't believe I'm actually talking to you right now. Oh my god wait, you’re going to Florida? Are you finally meeting Dream?”

“Yeah I am, but don’t tell anyone, alright? We’re gonna surprise everyone in a couple days.”

“You got it, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you. I like your hair, by the way.” It was presumably dyed a vibrant pink color, though George couldn’t be sure.

She gave a shy smile, still looking very excited and overwhelmed, before turning back around in her seat. 

_Is it really that exciting to meet me? I’m just like any other person. There’s nothing too special about me, besides the fact that I have a few million subscribers._

Unbeknownst to him, he’s saved thousands of people’s lives. He makes people’s days better just by existing. He gives people a reason to laugh and smile when they can’t seem to find any other reasons. He doesn’t know this, though. Maybe he’ll never know just how much he means to some people.

“Gate 12, flight E-44 to Orlando, Florida boarding now,” came a woman’s voice from loud speakers overhead.

_That’s me._

Quickly, before standing up, he shoots a quick text to Dream letting him know he’s boarding now, and should be there in about nine hours.

\-------------------------------

The plane ride is uneventful. George spent most of his time listening to music and sleeping. He got a window seat, so there was also a considerable amount of time spent watching the world pass by below. 

At one point, he dreamt of calm waters and starry skies. It was quite peaceful, really. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it had some sort of meaning.

He thought about this as he watched the large blanket of blue eventually get replaced by sandy beaches and buildings and people too far away to even see. And that’s when it really hit him hard. 

_I’m actually gonna see him. The real him. In person. It’s really happening. Holy shit._

Electricity wove its way through his body, starting at his chest and spreading through every vein, every bone, and every muscle in his body. Adrenaline, anxiety, and planes really don’t mix well. His stomach wouldn’t stop doing flips, no matter how much he willed it to. He began bouncing his leg in an attempt to slow everything down for a moment, just to give him a second to breathe and calm down. 

Before he knew it, the plane began descending through the clouds, over the tall buildings and rural neighborhoods, and right onto the runway. The plane rumbled and bumped, slowly but surely coming to a stop. People around him began unbuckling their seat belts and standing up.

It’s time. It’s finally time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THIS ALREADY, I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS TO GET ANY MORE THAN LIKE 20 KUDOS, IF ANY. BUT HERE WE ARE. MAN.
> 
> Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments, it's really really appreciated! I know there's definitely a lot of things I still need to do to improve my writing, so anything helps.
> 
> And of course, remember to drink water and be kind to yourself <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George POV and Dream POV

George's legs carry him out of the plane and out into the Florida airport, bags in hand. The air conditioning is seemingly on full blast. That’s worrisome. Do they really need that much air conditioning? Is it really that hot outside? It’s only May…

There’s so many people in this airport compared to the one he was at in England. It’s a bit overwhelming. There’s people walking in every direction, some talking much louder than necessary to people next to them, others basically shouting to people too far away to even hear anything. A man’s voice crackles through the speakers, but he can barely be heard over the sound of everyone else.

Sunlight streams through big windows to George’s left. It _looks_ hot outside. To his right, people are standing in long lines for food, blocking some others from walking past. A few people are asleep in chairs, while little kids bounce up and down next to them. How can anyone sleep in this atmosphere?

A tall man bumps into George from behind and mumbles a quick “sorry” before hurrying past. Not wanting to get lost in the busyness, George follows the crowd of people who had just exited the plane with him, presumably (and hopefully) going towards baggage claim. 

Eventually, he sees signs directing him to where he needs to go, and he finds his way to an even busier crowd of people than before, all looking for their bags. George thinks it looks akin to a bunch of little ants trying to get to food on the sidewalk. He attempts to squirm his way past people in an attempt to get to the front and find his bag, but to no avail, and decides to just wait it out.

While waiting, he texts Dream, telling him that he’s at baggage claim, waiting to get his stuff. Eventually, the crowd thins out enough to get to the front, and George immediately spots his suitcase moving along the line. He had drawn on a golden sharpie swirl to the corner, hoping it would make his simple black luggage stand out, and it did. 

Once the bag is in his reach, he grabs the handle and pulls it off, quickly walking away from the crowd before more people fill up the area again. _Where to, now?_

While wandering around for a less crowded place, a tall, blond man a few meters away catches his attention and they lock eyes. _Wow, he’s really attractive._ After a few seconds of the both of them staring at each other, the other’s face is slowly split by a growing grin as a look of pure excitement and adoration fills his eyes. George is confused, to say the least. _Why is this random guy looking at me like that? Do I know him? What- Wait...Is that-_

“ _George!_ ”

 _No way. No fucking way._ “Dream..?”

And before George can say anything else, he finds himself engulfed in the other man’s arms. Normally, hugs are ever so slightly out of George’s comfort zone. He’s never really been one for physical contact. But this is nice. _Really_ nice. So naturally, he wraps his arms around Dream’s torso and lays the side of his head on his chest. Dream’s arms are holding him tight and close, as if he were some sort of lifeline. His arms are over George’s, hands spread on his back, one hand rubbing ever so slightly, and his head is resting atop George’s. It feels safe. Almost like a second home, in a way. He wouldn’t mind doing this more often.

_Alyssa was right, he does give really good hugs._

After a minute or two, Dream pulls away, this time his hands gripping George’s arms, just below his shoulders. Dream’s eyes are flicking around George’s face, seemingly taking him in for a moment before speaking.

“Hi,” Dream breathes, sounding so soft and adoring that it’s almost too much, but still laced with so much excitement that George can’t keep his already big smile from growing even further. His voice sounds so much more _real_. It’s so different up close, but still so familiar. George likes his voice a lot. More than he’d ever admit out loud.

“Hi.”

And don’t even get him _started_ on Dream’s looks, because wow...I mean really, _wow_. His dirty blond hair, which looks much lighter than expected, probably because they’re standing directly in the afternoon sunlight, is the same style as Georges, just slightly longer and more fluffy and unkempt. But in a nice way. A really nice way. His eyes are a dark forest green color, though George can’t actually see the color, and has specks and stripes of brown. His eyelashes are long and dark, almost in a feminie way, and accentuate the shadows on his face. Needless to say, Dream is _very_ attractive. But, much like his adoration for his voice, George would never admit that out loud.

“Remember when I told Sapnap no hugging?” George says, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning anger. Dream releases his grip on George and drops his arms. George finds himself missing the contact.

“Yeah, but I’m not Sapnap, am I?” Dream responds, a sly grin on his face.

“No. You’re worse. Never touch me again.”

They both chuckle. George is glad there’s no tension or awkwardness between them. Dream’s presence is exhilarating and comforting at the same time. _It’s gonna be a fun month._

\-------------------------------

The drive home is spent singing along to songs that were playing a little too loud, and poking fun at each other’s terrible singing voices. Neither of them cared about sounding good, though. Both of their voices cracked multiple times as a result of trying to hit high notes way out of their reach, only causing each other to laugh harder. There was such a happy, carefree atmosphere created between the two during that car ride that neither of them really wanted to leave the moment. 

Never once did their big, goofy smiles fade.

\-------------------------------

Once inside the house, the same one that Sapnap had stayed in only a few months before, they didn’t bother unpacking George’s stuff just yet. Instead, they decided to watch tons of movies for the rest of the day.

“You should go make us some popcorn,” George says, nudging Dream’s shoulder with his own.

“George, the movie _just_ started, can’t you at least wait until the next one?”

“Listen, I just find movies much more enjoyable with popcorn, okay? Please?” George gives his best pout and looks up at Dream with puppy dog eyes.

Dream glances down at him and scoffs. With a sigh, he pauses the movie and walks to the kitchen to make popcorn. George does his own silent victory dance, glad he doesn’t have to move from his current, very comfortable, positioning. 

His legs are criss crossed in front of himself on the couch, Patches asleep in the gap between his legs and torso. Unlike with Sapnap, Patches had warmed up to George quickly. Of course, she was skittish at first, but after about twenty minutes, she was all over him. 

Dream returns with two bowls of popcorn a couple minutes later, and hands one to George as he goes to sit back down.

George grabs a handful and shoves it in his mouth, savoring the flavor. There’s something different about this popcorn, but he doesn’t know what it is. There’s a perfect ratio of butter to salt, and the small amount of pepper makes it even better. But there’s something else, too. 

“ _Oh thank you Dream, you’re so kind!_ You’re so very welcome George!” Dream says in a very overly-sweet voice, clearly trying to get some sort of thank you.

“Did you put garlic on this?” George asks, blatantly ignoring what Dream just said.

“I did! Have you never had it like this before?”

“No, but it’s really good, thank you.” Half a second later, he realizes he gave Dream exactly the praise he wanted. “Actually, no, I take that back. Your ego doesn’t need to be any bigger than it already is.”

“Wow, I’m hurt. I can’t believe you would say something like that,” Dream clutches his chest and fakes a sniffle, trying to look as upset as possible.

George just scoffs at him, and returns his attention back to the TV.

\-------------------------------

Seven hours and a lot of shitty movies later, George falls asleep, head lolling a bit to the right and resting slightly on Dream’s shoulder. It’s just around 7PM in Florida, but Dream supposes it makes sense that he’s already asleep, with the jetlag and all.

As quietly and deliberately as possible, he stands up, careful not to disturb the smaller man. He turns off the TV and picks up their popcorn bowls, carrying them into the kitchen to be washed. 

Once everything is cleaned up, Dream wanders back into the living room to find that George has moved to now be laying down on his side, face buried into the back cushions of the couch. Patches is curled up next to George, purring quietly. It’s a nice picture. There’s something domestic about it that Dream really enjoys.

Tip-toeing around so as to not disturb George, Dream grabs his softest blanket and gently lays it on top of George. 

_Don’t want him to wake up cold. Plus he looks cute like this. Not in a weird way, though. Just in a friendly way. We’re friends, I can think he looks cute and still just be friends. Just friends. Friends._

\-------------------------------

Sunlight is streaming in through the blinds, illuminating lines of dust in its path. The smell of toast and burnt eggs wafts around the house and the sound of a sizzling pan flows into the living room, where George is slowly rousing.

 _Warm._ That’s the first thought George has that morning. There’s a soft rumble against his back, presumably Patches’ purring.

Slowly and carefully, George flips around so his back is now facing toward the cushions. There’s a blanket on top of him. _When did that get there? I didn’t have a blanket last night._

_Did Dream...Did he really give me a blanket?_ It’s such a small gesture, easy to brush off, but something about it makes George giddy. He feels cared for. Really, genuinely cared for. It’s a nice feeling. And despite his best efforts, a small, fond smile creeps its way onto his face. 

He glances down to see that Patches is now stretching her arms out, probably woken up from George’s movements. She catches sight of the brunette next to her and promptly rubs against his cheek.

“Hello Patches,” George greets, just above a whisper. He scratches the side of her face and the top of her head before sitting up, and eventually standing to go see what Dream is making. _He might need some help, it smells a bit burnt._ George chuckles at the thought. A grown man, still unable to make eggs without burning them. But really, who’s he to judge? He could always just help Dream out, maybe even teach him how to cook.

\-------------------------------

The eggs were, in fact, burnt. Dream had attempted to scramble them, but completely forgot about them as he was making buttered toast, which he was also somehow struggling with. The butter wouldn’t spread and would instead just clump up and cause Dream to accidentally tear a bit of the bread. He did this multiple times, each one turning out the same. By the time he remembered that he was also making eggs, it was too late. The bottom layer was a dark brown color, and the top layer was still mostly liquid. 

Needless to say, he was struggling.

“You’re really bad at that, you know.”

Dream turns around, eyes scanning over his friend’s body. “Well good morning to you too,” Dream laughed, but his tone is slightly frustrated. _Why does cooking have to be so hard?_

“Do you need help or something?” George walks up to Dream’s left side and stares down at the mangled eggs. _Wow._

“Yes please,” Dream responds, relieved, clearly desperate for a break.

George turns off the stove flame before grabbing the spatula from Dream’s hand and taking hold of the pan’s handle. He walks over to the garbage and scrapes it all out. Yeah, it’s a bit of a waste, but really, who would eat those eggs?

Just as Dream is about to sit down, George calls him over. “No no no, don’t sit down. You’re twenty-one years old, you need to know how to cook. So I’m gonna teach you. Come stand next to me.”

“But whyyyy? Can’t you just do it yourself?”

“No, Dream. You need to learn, okay?”

“Okay, fine.” With a sigh, he reluctantly makes his way over to George’s side. “What first?” 

“First, you crack the eggs into the bowl.”

“Yeah, I got that, dummy. I do know _some_ things.”

“Really? That’s so _cool,_ Dream,” George responds with mock surprise.

“Oh, shut it.” Dream says as he gives a light punch to George’s arm. “Keep going.”

“Okay, okay. Next, you add a small splash of milk, however much salt and pepper you like, and then whisk it all together. You can’t beat them too much or the eggs will come out weird. And you have to make sure to mix air into it so that they come out fluffy.”

Dream watches as George narrates the steps as he does them. Dream thinks it’s quite impressive that he can do this so effortlessly, as if it’s second nature. Not to mention, he looks quite nice while doing it, too, despite having just woken up. If anything, he looks even better in his sleepy state. In a friend way, of course.

“Try mixing it some. You need to actually do something if you’re gonna learn.” The bowl is shoved into Dream’s hands, the handle of the whisk dinging against the glass bowl.

After about twenty seconds of weak mixing, Dream feels cold hands grab his wrist and stop his movements. 

“You suck at this, Dream. You have to _beat_ it and lift the whisk up a little bit to mix some air in.”

Dream mocks George with high pitched mumbles before responding in his best whiney voice, “I don’t get it Georgeeee, please just do it for me.” 

“ _No,_ Dream, you need to learn.”

“I don’t need to do shit.”

George huffs, and slides his hand lower from Dream’s wrist, gripping his hand. His left hand grabs the farthest side of the bowl right next to Dream’s left hand. Their sides are pressed together from shoulders to feet as George begins beating the eggs in a circular motion using Dream’s hand. 

He feels electric sparks where their skin touches. It’s as if an icy fire has ignited on his skin, lingering as long as George’s hand is there, against his skin, and it’s absolutely exhilarating. Little does Dream know, George feels the same. But neither of them mention anything.

_Just friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any recommendations on things they'd like to see later on in this fic, feel free to comment them!! And same goes for any tips/constructive criticism on my writing or the story in general :] The maid dress is coming soon, in a few chapters hopefully, but we'll see! I promise it'll become involved eventually though!!
> 
> I think I’m gonna take tomorrow off and let myself relax a bit, so there probably won’t be a new chapter tomorrow. Also I think I’m gonna try to start making chapters longer, so I might change to updating every other day, I’m not sure yet though. I’ll keep you guys posted on that :))
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, they make me very very happy <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Make sure to do something nice for yourself today and remember to drink water! I appreciate all of you more than you know


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream POV

The eggs are finally done, and now George is moving on to make the toast.

“How did you even mess this up? It’s, like, the simplest thing you could possibly make,” George laughed. Dream doesn’t know why George finds his struggle so amusing, but he supposes it’s worth it for the brunet’s beautiful smile and raw laughter. 

“I just don’t cook very often-”

“Ever,” George interrupts, plopping two slices of bread in the toaster and pushing the handle down.

“Ever. I just don’t cook ever so I’m not very good at it. I was trying to do something nice for you, George. You’re so mean to me.”

George scoffs at the taller’s ridiculousness, “doing something nice for me would’ve been _not_ cooking.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I mean...yeah, but you never have thoughts so that doesn’t apply to you.”

“ _What?_ No, I’ll think right now, watch,” Dream says and looks up at the ceiling, stroking his chin with two fingers.

George giggles. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you thinking about, then?” 

“I’m thinking about how we still have to buy you that maid dress.”

George’s smile quickly drops at that, but amusement is still dancing around in his eyes.

“Oooh, forgot about it, did you? That’s the whole reason you’re _here,_ Georgie,” Dream teases after laughing at the other’s dumbfounded expression.

“No, I thought _you_ forgot about it and I was gonna see if I could go the whole visit without having to do it.”

“Aww, well unfortunately for you, I really wanna see you in a maid dress, so I won’t be forgetting any time soon.” That’s not a lie, Dream really does want to see him in a maid dress. Maybe a little too much.

“Ohh, you really wanna see me in a maid dress,” George echos. “You’re so _weird._ ” He laughs out the last word.

Dream scoffs and smacks George’s arm, “shut up.”

The toast pops out, somehow perfectly cooked, and George spreads butter on it before placing both pieces on their plates with the eggs. 

“Done!” George sounds happy with himself, and Dream is left in a little shock at how simply he made the food, as if it was nothing.

“I just don’t understand how you did that so easily,” Dream says before taking a bite of the eggs, both of the boys still standing in the kitchen. They’re delicious. Perfectly seasoned with just enough cheese so that it’s not overpowering but still adds a good flavor to it. “ _Or_ how you made it so good, what the hell?” He shovels a few more bites into his mouth as George talks.

“Growing my ego, huh? It’s really not that hard, Dream, you just suck at everything.”

“Wow, I’m hurt. I was so kind to you and you _insult_ my cooking skills?”

“I wouldn’t call whatever you did ‘skills,’ you literally failed to make the easiest foods you could possibly make. I’m gonna have to keep teaching you during the _whole_ trip, won’t I?” George folds his toast in half before taking a large bite.

“Yes I suppose you will. It’ll be even better when you’re teaching me with the maid dress on,” Dream gives an exaggerated wink. 

“No way! I’m not doing that, absolutely not. The bet was that I have to wear it on stream, nothing more.”

_George cooking. In a maid dress . . . That’d be hot._

_What..?_

_Just like...in a friend way. Yeah, hot in a friend way._

They talk for a while more until their food is gone, Patches is fed, and the sun has risen higher in the sky. There’s an electric buzz in the air and they’re happy.

“Are we gonna do anything today?” George asks as they finish washing their dishes.

“I mean, we can if you want to, but I don’t have anything planned,” Dream responds. “We have a whole month so I figured there’s no need to get right into doing things, but we totally can if you want to! It’s your choice.”

George turns off the water and places his plate on the drying rack before turning to Dream and flashing him a bright smile. _He’s so pretty . . . In a friend way._ “Okay, yeah, let’s stay home today,” George says before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

_Home. That sounds nice. Platonically, of course._

Dream watches George leave, admiring the way his body moves.

_He would look so pretty under me, gripping white sheets, scratching my back, begging, moaning, painted in hickies…_

_Okay, alright, enough._

The blond shakes the pretty image out of his head before exiting the kitchen as well.

_Okay, maybe not so platonic. But that’s a thought for another time._

Dream plops down on the couch to the right of George. Sure, there’s another couch he could’ve sat on, but it’s nicer sitting next to George; More comforting. But he tells himself it’s just because he has the best view of the TV, which George had turned on.

“Whatdya wanna watch?” the Brit asks, shivering a bit, presumably because of the blasting air conditioning.

“Oooh can we watch a Disney movie?”

Dream grabbed his favorite blanket from a bin next to the couch and tossed it to George, who took it with a quiet “thank you” before pausing to process what Dream had said. “. . . Wait, did you say Disney movie?” A large, devilish smile broke across his face. “You’re such a _child,_ Dream!”

“Yes I did, you buzzkill. Disney movies are fucking awesome, you just have no taste.”

George laughed at Dream’s childishness before asking, “okay, well what’s your favorite Disney movie, then?”

“The Fox and the Hound,” Dream answered simply, as if it was the most obvious answer

The brunet burst into laughter yet again, clutching his stomach before speaking, chuckling through his words. “What even _is_ that? That sounds like it’s for five year olds!”

Dream felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He wasn’t necessarily _embarrassed,_ but he also wasn’t _not_ embarrassed. There was no real judgement behind George’s words, though, and he knew that.

“Shut _up,_ George, just play the damn movie.”

And so he did.

About twenty minutes into the movie and twenty minutes of George complaining, he reaches for his backpack under the coffee table and pulls out a stuffed animal. Dream scoffs, but secretly, he finds it really cute that he has a stuffed animal. He would never say that out loud, though.

“What?” George questions with an amused smile.

“You literally made fun of me for liking Disney movies while you have a fucking stuffed animal in your bag? You’re such a hypocrite!” Dream finishes with a laugh, no real malice in his words.

“Oh, shut up, I’ve had this since I was really little. My mom gave him to me.” George’s face falls ever so slightly after mentioning his mother. Dream knew they didn’t necessarily have the best relationship, but he also didn’t know the full extent of it.

But George quickly moves on, “his name is Bloo.” He says this quietly, as if afraid that Dream would laugh, but he didn’t. He just gives a small smile, humming in acknowledgement and turns his attention back to the movie.

It’s a nice movie. The drawings are adorable, the message is adorable, really, the whole thing is adorable. It’s a really nice comfort movie for him, never failing to calm him down and make him smile.

The effects of the cold air conditioning begin to hit Dream a couple minutes later, so he curls his legs up into his chest to try and get warmer, but to no avail. George seems to notice and lifts the side of the blanket closest to Dream, offering to share, and he gratefully accepts, shuffling closer to the smaller boy.

George tosses half of the blanket over Dream, but seems tense and anxious, almost like he’s afraid to get too close to Dream. He seems unfocused, almost like he’s lost in his head. Dream glances down and notices George fidgeting with his Bloo, running his hands over the whale’s back and twirling his fingers around it’s fin.

_Why’s he acting so strange?_

“You okay?”

“Mhm, yeah, I’m fine,” George responds, blinking back to reality and flashing a timid smile.

Something seems to have put him off, but Dream doesn’t know what. Clearly, George doesn’t want to talk about it, though, so Dream drops it for the time being and looks back up at the TV, focusing on the movie.

Patches jumps onto the couch and curls up on Dream’s lap, purring quietly before falling asleep. After a few more minutes, George is noticeably much more relaxed, and has even begun leaning ever so slightly onto Dream. It’s nice.

Really nice.

\-------------------------------

Around an hour later, the movie comes to a close and the credits begin to roll.

“Okay, you know what? That wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” George admits, shifting to sit up rather than lean on the other. Dream misses the contact immediately.

“ _See?_ I told you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” and after a pause, “do you wanna play Minecraft?”

“Sure,” Dream responds, picking up Patches and tossing the blanket onto George before standing up. “PC or Xbox?”

“You have an Xbox?” When Dream nods, George’s eyes light up. “I haven’t played on an Xbox in years, let’s play on there!”

“There should be two remotes in the drawer of the side table,” Dream says and presses the power button for the Xbox, then returning back to his previous spot on the couch.

The two of them play Minecraft for a few hours, doing a range of things from building competitions to manhunt, and eventually spending time making a normal survival world.

George wins the building competition by one point, only because of those stupidly irresistible puppy dog eyes he does. Dream wonders if George knows just how much of a weakness that is for him, or that despite his competitive nature, he’d lose any game just to see George happy.

_That stupid, beautiful smile._

During the short manhunt, George screams like he always does. Dream wheezes like he always does. They banter like they always do. It feels natural and comfortable, like this is exactly what the universe had planned for them to do in this moment. Like they were meant to be there with each other.

Not to mention, it was really fun.

On the first night in their survival world, they place their beds, blue and green, next to each other. It had been done as a joke, but the two boys' cheeks are dusted pink regardless. On the second night, they build a small house made of spruce and oak wood and a cobblestone roof. They get two dogs and a cat and line the walls with a variety of potted plants. The two of them fight mobs and laugh when the other dies to something stupid. 

By the time they decide to stop playing Minecraft, it’s already around 3pm.

“Georgeeee, I’m hungry,” Dream whines. “Can you make something?”

“No, but _we_ can make something.”

Dream agrees with a sigh and they head back to the kitchen, Patches trailing behind.

“Dream you literally have, like, _nothing_ in your fridge. How are we supposed to make anything, you idiot?”

“Dude I never cook, what do you expect from me?”

“I don’t know, but I definitely expected something better.”

“Well, we could always go to the store,” Dream suggests.

“Okay, yeah, let's do that.”

George showers and Dream throws on a grey t-shirt and jeans while he waits for George so that they can leave.

Dream is sitting in the living room, scrolling through Twitter when George leaves the bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Water drips down from his partially dried hair and down his torso, eventually seeping into the white towel. Dream’s eyes follow the water drop and then flick around his chest, admiring his small build and light, easily bruisable skin. He realizes he’s been staring for just a little too long, so he looks back up and meets George’s amused eyes.

“Like what you see?”

_Yeah, but I wish I could see more,_ is what he almost says. But instead, he scoffs. “You wish.”

_God, there’s no way I’m gonna survive a whole month._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA HI!!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the delay on this, I had a rough few days. I'm still gonna be updating, it just might take a few days rather than just one. I hope you're all well and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, feel free to leave any constructive criticism or tips!! I appreciate you all <3
> 
> Also! Drink water right now this is a threat >:(
> 
> And take care of yourself! Have a snack, go on a walk, take a shower, anything like that <333


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George POV

“What are we even gonna make?” George focuses his gaze on Dream as he considers the blond’s question.

They’re standing in the middle of the produce section of a Publix, cart currently only containing Oreos that Dream had insisted on buying the second he saw them. 

“Hmm, I dunno. What do you wanna eat?” George asks.

“I don’t _know,_ George, that’s why I asked you.”

“Okay, okay. Umm . . .” George glances around, looking for something to catch his attention. He finds nothing, but an idea pops into his head. “Oh I know! What if we do that TikTok thing?”

“What TikTok thing? There’s a lot of TikTok things.”

“That one where you close your eyes and point to the shelves and walk forward, and then stop when the other person says,” George explains, excitement swelling in his chest. 

He’d been wanting to do that for a while, ever since he first saw it, but he’d never had anyone to do it with. Until now.

“Isn’t that supposed to be for couples?” Dream asks in a mock suggestive tone, wiggling his eyebrows.

George feels his face flush slightly. _Why am I blushing? That was a joke. We’re friends, calm down._ “Yeah, but who says best friends can’t do it too?”

It almost pains him to say that, though he’s not quite sure why. They _are_ best friends, after all. 

“That’s true,” Dream agreed, “okay, let’s do it.”

They walked from isle to isle picking out various different items, all completely random. As they went on, the two of them got more and more concerned about how the _hell_ they were gonna make something out of such a weird assortment of items.

So far, they had gotten onions, gummy worms, olives, crackers, hummus, and almond milk. Like, really? What could they possibly make?

“Okay,” George says through breathless giggles, “it’s your turn, close your eyes.” Dream’s left hand goes up to cover his eyes, and the other points out at the shelf. “And . . . go!”

The blond’s arm starts moving up and down as he walks down the empty aisle at a slow pace, probably hoping to get something, _anything,_ to salvage their meal.

From a few feet away, standing in front of Dream, George can see the way his cheeks are pushed up from smiling. And although he can’t actually see the smile under the mask, he knows it’s absolutely stunning. Enough to knock someone off their feet. He had been obsessed with the taller man’s smile ever since the first time he saw it, and has now gotten into a habit of doing whatever possible to make the other smile. 

It isn’t very hard, though. Dream always seems to be smiling around George.

\-------------------------------

“George, I really don’t know what you expect to make out of this. There’s literally _nothing_ we can do,” Dream says, scanning the assortment of items they had purchased.

The cashier had given them a weird look, trying, and failing, to hide it under her mask. They did look quite peculiar, though, so who could blame her?

“I don’t know either. I really expected to get something better than this.”

“How could you possibly expect to get something good out of picking completely random items to make a meal out of?” Dream chuckles. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Shut up,” George whines, dragging out the last word. Thinking about it now, he really didn’t know how he had thought they would get something better. If anything, they got lucky with what they got, their final item chosen by Dream being a raw steak.

“Okay, what about this,” Dream speaks, moving his gaze from the food to George. And _fuck,_ George almost melts on the spot. 

Dream’s eyes are looking at him with excitement, happiness, and something else that George can’t quite place. The fading light outside is coming through the windows and giving his eyes a beautiful sparkle, making the color pop and making his skin seemingly glow. 

Faint freckles are lightly scattered across his cheeks and nose as if someone had taken far away stars right out of the sky and placed them right on the blond’s face. George wants to reach forward and trace each freckle, count each one individually, see what shapes they might make if lines were drawn from one to another. He wants to memorize every detail of Dream’s face until he couldn’t forget even if he tried. 

George’s eyes fall to Dream’s lips. They were moving, but George didn’t process that, too focused on the smile seemingly cemented in place, too busy with watching the way his lips moved around whatever words he was saying, too busy imagining and _wanting._

_What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to stop doing this, it’s ridiculous. We’re friends, why does my brain even go there? Stupid, stupid brain. God, I really need to snap out of it._

_But he’s so pretty . . ._

“George are you even listening?”

George’s eyes snap up and he’s pulled back to reality and out of his head. _Thank god._

“What? Um, yeah. Yeah I’m listening.”

“You’re not! You’re totally not!” Dream exclaims with an exasperated, disbelieving smile.

“I am!”

“Okay, what was the last thing I said?”

“ _You’re not! You’re totally not!_ ” George mocks in a high pitched voice, way too high to sound anything remotely like Dream.

“You little idiot, you know what I mean,” Dream laughs out, lightly smacking George’s arm. 

“No,” George says in that clipped, teasing voice. He definitely does know, but this is much more fun.

“Fine, I guess we won’t make anything, then.” George can tell Dream isn’t actually annoyed or upset, so he doesn’t feel bad for being so purposely annoying.

Dream begins walking away, but George grabbed his wrist before he got too far away. “Weren’t you literally the one who complained about being hungry?” Dream turns around to face George again, that stupid, adorable smile still stuck on his stupid, adorable face.

“Yes, and I’ll eat my Oreos.”

“Okay, fine. Just as long as you don’t eat my gummy worms.” The idea of making a meal is basically out the window by now, so they’ll probably just end up eating what they bought as snacks or something like that.

“Yeah, you would like gummy worms, wouldn’t you?”

“What?” George chuckles, confused. “What does that even _mean?_ ”

“Only bottoms prefer gummy worms over Oreos,” Dream states simply.

“What?! Okay, first of all, I’m not a bottom,” George feels his face flush slightly. “And second of all, you’re telling me you don’t like gummy worms?”

“No I like gummy worms, just not as much as I like Oreos. Meaning I’m not a bottom. But you totally are.”

“I’m _not_! Why would you say that?” The last sentence comes out a bit quieter than he meant for it to.

“So you’re telling me you’re _not_ a bottom?”

George knows it’s a lie, as much as he’d like to think it’s not. But he’s determined to win this. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and turns his head away in an attempt to seem tougher. “Honestly, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, I’d never be-”

But he’s interrupted by a hand gripping his face and forcing him to face Dream. 

_What the fuck._

Dream’s fingers are pressing against one cheek, and his thumb is pressing into the other. His eyes are piercing into George’s and George loses all composure. He undoes his crossed arms, right arm falling to the side and his left reaching up to grab Dream’s wrist. 

_For grounding. I’m holding onto his wrist for grounding,_ is what he tells himself. And it’s partially true, but it’s also because he likes the contact. He likes touching Dream. 

George is about to speak when, out of nowhere, Dream slowly drags his thumb from the side of George’s face to his chin, just below where his lips start. George feels the words die in his throat. Neither of them break eye contact once.

The thumb moves up once again so it’s now resting on George’s bottom lip. George feels his mouth part the smallest amount as Dream leans in ever so slightly, and way too slowly.

Both of their faces are flushed bright red, and George finds himself breaking the eye contact, eyes sliding down to look at Dream’s lips as Dream leans in even more.

They’re so close. 

George’s eyes fall half shut, his gaze still fixed on the soft, pink lips in front of his. 

They’re so, _so_ close.

George notices there’s butterflies in his stomach. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been there; he’s gotten quite used to the feeling ever since first seeing Dream. Every flap of their wings sends warm electricity through his veins, filling his blood with fiery love.

_Love?_

Just as their lips are about to brush, Dream’s mouth forms into an evil, shit eating grin and he releases his grip on George.

“I think that proves my point,” Dream wheezes out, walking away with the most satisfied look George has ever seen him have. 

The brunette just stands there, shellshocked.

_What the fuck was that?_

_Were we seriously about to kiss? Was I seriously going to do it? Why didn’t I stop him?_

_We’re just friends. Right?_

_Friends do stuff like that. Right?_

_. . . Right?_

\-------------------------------

It goes unspoken after that. Neither of them bring it up, the rest of their day is spent like any other day. They talk, they play games, they watch more movies, they move George’s stuff into his room, just normal friend stuff. It takes everything George has to not think about it. And he’s successful. Successful, until he’s sitting in his bed alone that night. 

His head is so _busy._ His thoughts are so loud. Everything is so loud. And yet, everything is too quiet. Everything is too dark and too cold and too lonely. It feels like his head is going to explode, and he doesn’t know why.

Okay, that’s not exactly true. He does know, but there’s so many things it could be that maybe he doesn’t. Or maybe he does. It hurts to think, he doesn’t want to think about it. He just wants his thoughts to stop. He wants to hit his head and scream until everything quiets down and everything feels alright. 

But he can’t, otherwise Dream would hear, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. So instead, he lets himself drown in his thoughts. He lets his tears overflow and lets a few silent sobs rip out of his throat.

He _yearns._ He yearns for so much. He yearns for physical affection; hand holding, long hugs, late night cuddling, _anything._

He yearns for love. For someone to look at him like he’s the whole world, and someone he can look at the same way. For someone who knows him as well as he knows himself. For kindness and affection from someone. Anyone.

Growing up, his mom was never really one for physical touch. So he grew up thinking that was normal. Hugs were a very rare thing in his household. He didn’t have many friends as a kid; nobody seemed to want to stick around. 

That was fine, for a while. Until it just became too much of too little. 

And he started thinking, maybe he was the problem. Maybe that’s why nobody sticks around. Maybe that’s why his family rarely touched him. Maybe it was him. 

So that’s how he grew up. He grew up touch starved, lonely, convinced that he was the issue. 

When he met Dream, Sapnap, and Bad, though, everything changed. Maybe not the physical part, but he felt so unbelievably loved. For the first time he could remember, he was happy. They make him happy. 

But sometimes, when things get to be too much, those feelings come back. He gets flooded with feelings of worthlessness, loneliness, and feeling like he isn’t good enough. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Like a dull knife was shoved into his heart and twisted around until he was begging for it to stop. 

Tonight is one of those nights.

In an attempt to calm his spiraling, George grabs Bloo and clutches him close to his chest.

Bloo was given to him when he was about two years old. His mom had given it to him as a gift, and he’d kept it ever since. Him and his mom didn’t have the best relationship. If he’s being honest, a lot of his issues stemmed from her. She’s judgemental, narcissistic, close minded, and just really hard to be around. Being around her is like walking on eggshells. 

When George first came out to his mom, she was nice about it. But after a while, things started getting weirder and weirder. She would question how George could possibly know he was bi if he hadn’t even had sex yet. She would question how someone could even _be_ bi, because “why not just choose one?” She’s supportive, just not understanding.

He likes Bloo, though. Which to most people might not make sense, but he likes it. It reminds him that underneath everything, his mom loves him. Even if it might not seem like it, she does. It reminds him of a time when him and his mom weren’t constantly arguing. It reminds him of a peaceful, happy childhood.

So in an attempt to calm himself, he does what he always does.

His fingers twirl around Bloo’s fins, hot tears stream down his face, and his breathing is choppy and erratic. 

And, out of nowhere, a horrible memory comes to the forefront of George’s mind, ripping his heart apart.

_“If you weren’t my child, I would cut you out of my life completely.”_

His mom had found out about his online boyfriend at the time, and she wasn’t happy, to say the least. She had taken away the one thing that had made him feel loved and happy.

That memory rips a loud, audible sob out of his throat. That memory still hurts. Sure, it happened when he was fourteen, but he never quite recovered from hearing those words. He just wants to be loved. Dream had almost given him that. _Almost. So, so close._

But there’s no way he actually likes Dream, right? He’s just upset, he’s just looking for anyone to love him and he happens to be the closest person. _We’re just friends, I don’t like him like that._

That’s a lie. He knows it. Deep down, he knows he’s lying to himself. He knows he wanted Dream to kiss him earlier. He knows he wants to be able to call Dream his. He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with Dream. But admitting it, even if it’s only in his head, would make it true, and George doesn’t know if he can handle that just yet.

There’s a knock at George’s bedroom door.

“George?”

_Shit._

“George are you okay?”

_Maybe if I stay quiet, he’ll think I’m asleep._

Despite his best efforts, a small whimper escapes his mouth.

“George, I’m coming in, okay?”

Quickly, George wipes his tears away. He doesn’t even bother pretending to be asleep anymore. Dream knows he's awake. After a moment, the door slowly opens.

Dream is standing in the doorway with an expression so worried that it’s almost painful to look at. 

George sniffles and his bottom lip trembles. “Hi,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a whisper.

Before he can process what’s happening, Dream is rushing forward and scooping George into a hug, and George falls into it. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, George sitting up against the headboard, Dream in front of him, both of them holding onto the other for dear life.

Reluctantly, Dream pulls away, hands still gripping George’s shoulders. They lock eyes, and the heartbroken look in Dream’s eyes is enough to make more tears fall down George’s face. 

_He’s upset because of me. Because of me._

His breathing picks up again. He’s hyperventilating. The edges of his vision are going black.

_I made him upset. It’s my fault. My fault. My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fa-_

“Hey,” Dream interrupts his thoughts, “hey, breathe. Deep breaths. Breathe with me, okay?” He grabs George’s hands and squeezes.

George nods and follows Dream’s breathing. More tears fall onto the blanket below, but his breathing is slowly going back to normal.

And eventually, he can breathe again. 

“Thank you,” George speaks just above a whisper, a small smile forming on his face. Dream’s right hand comes up to cup George’s cheek, and his thumb wipes away the few remaining tears on George’s face. George leans into the touch, savoring it's warmth and comfort.

“Are you okay?” Dream still looks worried, but it’s considerably less now.

“Yeah, I’m better now. That helped.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid, really. Just remembering some stuff my mom said to me when I was a kid.”

“What’d she say to you?”

George takes a second to gather his thoughts before responding. “Well, um. She said once that she would’ve cut me out of her life completely if I weren’t her kid. That’s the main one. She also said that nobody would ever love me if they knew I was bi. She’s said a lot of stuff like that, though. And it was years ago, it’s really not that bad.”

“Oh my god,” Dream’s hand drops back down to squeeze George’s again. “I’m so sorry, George. You know that’s not true though, right?” His eyes flick back and forth between George’s.

“What’s not true?”

“That nobody would love you if they knew you were bi. It's not true. It’s not true at all.”

“How do you know?”

Dream hesitates. “I just do.”

_Vague much?_

Not knowing what to respond, George wraps his arms around Dream’s torso again and buries his face into the blond’s chest.

Fingers tangle into George’s hair and run through, eventually soothing him to sleep. 

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s warm. His head is resting on top of Dream’s chest and his hands are clutching the fabric of Dream’s hoodie. Dream’s hand is resting on the small of George’s back, the other hanging off the side of the bed. He isn’t exactly sure how they got into this position, but it’s nice. Sure, it might be weird to actually wake up like this later, but that’s the least of his worries right now. He decides to let himself have this. So he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm quite proud of it tbh. I'm so sorry for the slow updates, but hopefully longer chapters like this make up for it :]
> 
> Feel free to leave constructive criticism if you have any! I appreciate it lots!
> 
> And, of course, be kind to yourself and remember to stay hydrated! <3
> 
> Edit (2/25/21) :  
> Hi!! I know I haven’t updated this in a while, I’m sorry :( Ive got some stuff in the works for it though, so hopefully something should be out soon! Ive been a bit demotivated to write for this fic recently, but I’ve been working on a couple one shots instead, so expect those in the future! I’ll do my best to update asap :) 
> 
> If you wanna be updated on my writing stuff, my twitter is @/davinkyyy_
> 
> I appreciate you all <3


	6. Chapter 6

It was worrisome, to say the least, finding George sobbing the previous night. 

Dream wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, really. He didn’t really know what George had been upset about, but a part of him couldn’t help but worry that it had been because of him. Sure, George had told him it’d been because of the horrible things his mother had said, but Dream being Dream, he couldn’t help but worry that maybe he pushed too far.

_Did I make him uncomfortable? Did I take it too far yesterday? Oh, god. Did I make him even more uncomfortable when I came in here to help?_

_God, he probably hates me._

George moves a bit, nuzzling into Dream’s chest. The covers aren’t even on top of them, they had just fallen asleep as they were, snuggling closer to each other for warmth. 

_Only for warmth._

George is breathing slowly and gently, and his hands have a relaxed grip on Dream’s hoodie. 

_He doesn’t even know what he’s doing, though. He’s asleep, probably just cold._

But it’s so comfortable, so domestic, Dream almost doesn’t want to leave.

_He probably doesn’t even want me in here, though. I should leave before I make it even worse._

Reluctantly, Dream slides out from under George and off of the bed. The brunette stirs lightly and hugs the pillow under his head. His hair is slightly disheveled and his pajama shirt is twisted, but he looks comfortable, and peaceful.

_And cute._

Dream retrieves a blanket from the closet and drapes it over George. Their house is kept cold, so he’ll probably need it. 

As quietly as possible, Dream tiptoes towards the door and turns the handle. And just as the door is cracked open, “. . .Dream?”

_Shit._

Dream turns back to George and they lock eyes. The rims of George’s eyes are ever so slightly red and puffy from crying the previous night. Sadness is faintly etched into the lines of his face, though he seems to be doing much better.

“Yeah?” Dream asks gently. He doesn’t want to hurt the other any more. _Is he mad?_

“Can you. . .” George trails off and clears his throat, “um. Where’re you going?”

 _...What? Does he want me to stay?_

_There’s no way, right? But why else would he be asking that?_

_He’s just asking in a platonic way._

_Platonically. Yeah._

“Sorry, never mind. You can go,” George looks upset and Dream realizes he’s been quiet for a little too long.

“No, no I’m sorry,” Dream says quickly. He can’t leave now, George looks so upset. All Dream wants is to hold him and kiss the sadness right out of him. He would do anything for George to be happy. _In a friendly way. We’re just friends._

“I’m just going to get you some food. I’ll be right back,” Dream says with a small smile. George relaxes a bit and nods, watching Dream leave the room.

_Really? He’s not gonna protest that? Weird._

Dream returns a few minutes later, plate of toaster waffles in hand, and flashes a smile to George.

“I don’t know why I just let you go make food. We’re lucky the house didn’t burn down,” George jokes with a grin. _He seems to be feeling a little better. That’s good._

_. . .He has a pretty smile._

“Oh, shut it. I can’t do _one_ nice thing for you without being slandered, can I?”

“Sure you can, as long as you don’t cook,” George replies as he takes his plate, throwing a suspicious look at the waffles. “I don’t trust these. How do I know you didn’t put hot sauce in them or something?”

Dream plops down on the bed beside George before putting on a show of being hurt. “Why would I do something like that, Georgie? Just eat the damn waffles, I made them for you and all you can focus on is making fun of me. I’m so hurt, I can’t believe you.” 

Obviously he’s not hurt, if the large grin on his face is anything to go by.

They eat together, talking about anything and everything, from video ideas to childhood stories to pet peeves. And before they know it, two hours have already passed.

“Oh! I was gonna show you something! Do you happen to have an electric guitar here by any chance?” George asks excitedly.

“Actually, I do. Sapnap left his here after he visited. Why?”

“Go get it and I’ll show you!”

_What does he have planned?_

“Okay,” Dream says with a sigh as he stands up. 

He walks back in a minute later, light blue electric guitar in hand.

After handing it to George, he sits criss cross on the bed across from him and waits.

“I learned how to play a song a couple weeks ago. You probably won’t know it, but I wanted to show you anyway because I think it’s pretty cool,” George explains. He seems a little nervous, though Dream can’t figure out why. 

_Maybe he’s just scared to play in front of people._

“Oooh cool, okay!” He rests his elbows on his knees and props his chin on his hands as George begins to strum.

_This sounds familiar. . ._

“Actually, I do know this,” Dream says a couple seconds into the song. 

“What?” George stops his strumming and looks up with wide eyes. He looks afraid, almost like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Why’d you stop? I really like that song,” Dream smiles, encouraging George to continue. 

It’s a stupid cheesy love song, but it’s still one of his favorites. He remembers laying in bed some nights _yearning_ for the touch and love of another, this song playing on repeat through his headphones. It may be a stupid cheesy love song, but it’s beautiful.

And George is playing it.

When it gets to the point where the lyrics would usually come in, George doesn’t sing, he just continues strumming.

In the spur of the moment, Dream decides to sing instead.

“ _I saw your name on a street sign,_ ” Dream begins singing softly, “ _in the middle of nowhere. And that has to mean something._ ”

George looks up again, but continues playing this time. They make eye contact, and Dream almost melts. George looks surprised, but in such a soft, adoring way, Dream thinks he could cry.

“ _I know your zodiac sign,_ ” George jumps in to sing. “ _Me and Leo’s get along great,_ ” they smile. It fits so well it’s almost comical. “ _And that has to mean something._ ”

They sing the next part together, the chorus, harmonizing in a beautiful way, “ _but for some reason, you’re not here. And I refuse to believe,_ ” a light pink blooms on George’s cheeks and he looks back down in an attempt to hide it, “ _that means something._ ”

George sings the next part alone. “ _I felt the way you hugged me, when I was broken inside,_ ” once again, it’s almost laughable how well it fits. “ _And that has to mean something._ ” George glances up to meet Dream’s eyes, but quickly looks back down.

_He’s so flustered, oh my god, he’s adorable._

Dream slowly sways with the music before the next words come up.

“ _I felt the way you kissed me, when we got too drunk last night,_ ” George looks up shyly, but holding eye contact this time. Dream looks right back at him, and they have some sort of silent exchange, though Dream isn’t quite sure what it was. “ _And that has to mean something._ ”

They sing the chorus together again, and during the time after with no lyrics, they both have stupidly big grins on their faces and butterflies swarming around in their bellies, but neither of them mention it.

“I can’t believe you actually know this song,” George speaks, still no lyrics in the song at this part. 

“Are you kidding? This is one of my favorites!” Dream exclaims. He’s never met anyone else who knows and likes the song as much as he does. And of course, _of course,_ it’s George who does. Of course.

“ _Every time I think too much,_ ” Dream sings this time, “ _it ends up crazy._ ” George looks down, somewhere at the space between them, and sings the next line with Dream. “ _But I don’t know how to not think about you._ ” 

They both sing as if they were actually confessing it. Which in a way, they were. But neither of them knew that.

When the song is over, George speaks up. “You’re a surprisingly good singer, you have a really nice voice.” He has that beautiful, stupidly endearing smile on his face that makes Dream feel like he’s walking among the stars.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Dream responds, his voice so soft and fond that he almost outwardly cringes. George doesn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, Dream thinks he sees the light pink on his cheeks flush a little darker.

“You know, Leo’s and Scorpio’s actually do get along really well,” George notes after a moment.

“Really?”

“Yeah, supposedly it’s like, soulmate level connection.” George says this in a teasing voice, but if Dream had been paying a little more attention, he would’ve heard the slight notes of hopefulness and yearning in his words.

But he didn’t hear, so instead, he scoffs. “You’re an idiot.”

 _Soulmates._ A soft smile flickers onto Dream’s face. _Wouldn’t that be something?_

\-------------------------------

Later that day, they join a vc with Sapnap who’s freaking out, to say the least.

“You guys meet up and go MIA for three whole days? What’s been happening? What have you done so far? Come onnnn, fill me in guys,” he whines. The two boys did feel bad about not talking to him for a while, but admittedly, probably not as bad as they should feel.

Luckily, Sapnap wasn’t actually upset. “I understand guys, really, it’s okay. Just tell me what you’ve been doing!”

“Well uh,” George starts, “I found out Dream is a _terrible_ cook. Like horrible. It’s an abomination, really.”

“Wh-” Dream begins to protest, but is interrupted by Sapnap.

“Oh my god, yeah dude he fucking _sucks._ I honestly don’t know how you’re even going to survive, you’d be better off starving to death.” 

George chuckles at Sapnap’s passionate hate for Dream’s food, though he couldn’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

“Oh, come on now,” Dream says in mock annoyance. Deep down, he knew he absolutely could not cook for the life of him, but that wouldn’t stop him from defending his pride.

“He said the thing, he said the thing!” George laughs out with a high-pitched voice. 

“No, dude,” Sapnap speaks up, “we seriously need to get you some help. Maybe I should come visit again just so that we can fix this issue.”

He had stayed with Dream a couple months prior, but had to go back home for a bit for college and family purposes. The plan right now is that once Sapnap graduates - or drops out - he’ll officially move in with Dream in their rented house.

“But don’t you have school and stuff?” Dream questions.

“Yeah but I mean like, I could come down during spring break and stay for a couple weeks.”

“Well when does your break start?”

“Umm,” faint clicking is heard from Sapnap’s side, presumably looking for his school calendar. “A little less than two weeks. And it’s a two week long break.”

“Oh wait,” Dream perks up, “that’s actually perfect! Since George is staying for a month and a half, us two will get two weeks together, the three of us will get two weeks together after that, and then George and I will get another two weeks after that!”

“Aww but I don’t wanna see him,” George whines, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate Sapnap,” he jokes as he throws his head back in exasperation.

“Well suck it up Gogy because it’s happening,” and after a moment, “oh my god. George! This means I’m gonna get to see you in your maid dress!”

“Wh- Oh my god I completely forgot about that. Noooo, Dream we’re gonna have to get it soon so that I don’t have to wear it in front of Sapnap.”

“Well. . .” Dream pauses, “I mean if you’re gonna wear it, why not wear it when he’s here?”

“ _No!_ I wanna get it over with sooner rather than later, and besides, he’s probably gonna like- post pictures of it or something,” George argues.

“George, you’re literally gonna wear it on stream. _Everyone_ is gonna post pictures of it,” Dream argue’s right back.

“I don’t _care,_ I just don’t want him to see!” George feigns annoyance and pouts, looking up at Dream in a silent plea.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream laughs, his voice soft and fond. ‘Idiot’ has always been a term of endearment for him, especially when it came to George. But that’s neither here nor there. “Fine. We can go out and get it tomorrow, and then you can wear it on stream next week, okay?”

“Okay,” George agrees begrudgingly. He probably just didn’t want to wear it either way, but a deal’s a deal.

“I’ll buy the plane tickets for like two-ish weeks from now,” Sapnap’s voice comes through the PC’s speakers.

“Perfect,” Dream responds with a wide smile. 

Though he’s a little upset about not getting as much one-on-one time with George as they initially planned, he supposes it’s better. _With the way I’ve been feeling lately. . .Maybe Sapnap can help ease up my dumb feelings. Or something like that._

\-------------------------------

Later that night, Dream found himself in a position that he never would have predicted, but had absolutely no complaints whatsoever.

He was sitting up in the middle of his bed, leaning back against the headboard as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone with one hand. The interesting part is that his other hand had been practically stolen by the brunette, who was laying on his belly between Dream’s legs. 

It’s a rather intimate position, George’s head between Dream’s chest and belly fiddling with one of the blond’s hands. Slim, pale fingers trace the protruding veins with interest on the larger, slightly more tan hand. 

George trails his fingers along the purple veins, pressing down occasionally, and across the bumps and ridges of the blond’s knuckles. He gingerly turns Dream’s hand over so the back of his hand is resting on his torso, and traces each line on his palm gently. Every touch sends electricity across Dream’s skin and straight to his heart, fueling it to beat faster with each second that passes. 

Dream lets his hand and fingers go limp so George can fiddle with them as he likes.

“You have nice hands,” George mumbles, sounding almost as if it slipped out, like he hadn’t meant to say it. He turns Dream’s hand over again, and using his own hands, holds two opposite sides of the larger hand in his own.

The butterflies in Dream’s stomach, which seem to now have a permanent residence there, double and fill him with an indescribable honey warmth.

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” a light pink dusting blooms on George’s cheekbones.

“They look even nicer holding yours,” Dream purposely pitches his voice slightly lower; the words manage to come out much softer than he meant for them to.

“Shut up, idiot,” George scoffs with no real malice. In fact, Dream could’ve sworn he heard the same tenderness and affection as when he said the same thing to George.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIII IM BACK IM BACK!! im so sorry for not posting for like. literally a whole month :( im gonna try to upload more, but we'll see! anyways! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, any constructive criticism or ideas for future chapters are greatly appreciated :D
> 
> if you're interested, the song they sung in this chapter is called "means something" by lizzie mcalpine
> 
> ALSOOOO, you guys should all follow @/mayishere__ on twitter! she beta reads all of my chapters and she's super swaggy and cool :)  
> and if you're interested, i post updates of this fic and others (and also just mess around a lot) on my twitter: @/davinkyyy_ 
> 
> stay hydrated and take care of yourself! i love u!! <3


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